


Never Let You Go / Never Let Me Go

by queerasfok



Category: Ocean's (Movies)
Genre: AU?, At least in my head, F/F, SO GAY, SO MUCH ANSGT, also angst, god these chaotic gays, maybe? - Freeform, oceans gay, queer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerasfok/pseuds/queerasfok
Summary: Debbie Ocean and Lou Miller have been partners for most of their adult life. So how is it that life seems to bring them together again and again, despite the obvious discordance? What makes two people, so meant to be with each other in every sense of the word, be so far apart? Away, unable to let go.(Or, the multi-chapter fic where I attempt to fill in the blanks that the film seems to have left in Deb/Lou's characterization, backstories, past, present, everything.)





	1. Fractured Moonlight on the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debbie Ocean; a prodigal daughter of New York City. Her first real home, her chosen family. Her decisions and indecisions, the worst and, perhaps, the best. Her becoming and unbecoming. New York, and all that comes with it. 
> 
> (Or, rehabilitation is a bitch).

Chapter One  
Debbie lay down on the hotel bed, freshly half-laundered, and kicked one of the shop bags which contained her recent spoils. The feel of soft fabric, fur jackets and just having a bed underneath her spine felt like a deja vu, familiar and distant at the same time. She pulled out the makeshift phone she had purchased (from her leftover forty-something bucks), a second hand iPhone with a cracked screen, but thankfully all her contacts were secure. One of the few things about her that was still floating on the internet somewhere, although she had deleted most of it right before getting involved in the bigger cons with Claude. “Its dangerous to have so much of your life for anyone to access mi amor”, he had said lightheartedly, while stir frying a vegetables and pasta dish that Debbie had made the mistake of appreciating once, and which Claude bragged as his ‘signature dish’ to his friends thereafter. Claude. His name brought a sour aftertaste in her mouth, almost as though she could taste blood. But if there was anything her family had taught her about surviving the way the Oceans are won't to do, it was to keep a clear head and to keep emotions or any distractions out of the job. It was something her father had especially emphasized upon, during her and Danny’s first and only trip to visit him in jail, before he sweetly yet firmly asked them to never show up again. They needed to get on with their lives. The past was best left undone and over with. 

Rules were something which Debbie was fond of formulating; rules about breakfast, rules about heists, rules about how to go about those heists. She had inherited this from her father, while Danny deviated from the same. While Debbie was busy trying to attain some small heists pre-Claude, Danny was on a mission to take out Las Vegas; and to get Tess back. There were scrapes and risks which only he could undertake; it cost him his life, eventually, or so she thought. You could never tell with Danny. Debbie sighed and rolled over to her stomach, turning on the phone and logging in her account details. She needed to sync her contacts, for the sake of the future and simply for convenience, though she wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't get an answer. She waited for her contacts to sync, her thumb hovering over the photos application. A tempting feat, considering the phone had already notified her that her iCloud photo library had finished syncing: a grand total of one locked album, containing two photographs. Against her better judgement she opened the app and typed in the password for the locked album. A date. Approximately fifteen years ago. A painful date, some would say, but one which acted as a reminder for her to access that pain associated with the sentimentality in these locked pictures. 

She clicked on the first one: a scanned photograph from one of the two Ocean family photo albums, possibly gathering dust somewhere in her aunt Ida’s attic. It was a photo of her and Danny as kids, their arms around each other’s shoulders, Danny holding a palm-sized lollipop in his left hand and Debbie smiling gap-toothed toward the camera. Debbie knew the photograph had been taken by her mother, because she could see her father in the left hand corner of the frame, his silhouette against the summer sun, a briefcase in one hand and his other shielding his face from the sun (and presumably from the camera). Debbie and her father had a lot in common, especially when it came to their ‘heist styles’ as Danny called it. They were meticulous, cautious, they took their time, and were agonizingly careful with it. But her father was gone, and so was Danny, who would send her cryptic texts and postcards reminding her to have some fun along the way. Debbie knew better than to dwell on childhood issues and other irrelevancies, but she was nothing if not an organized person. And she was decidedly and meticulously procrastinating right now. This was the moment she had been waiting for, painfully so, throughout her prison sentence. It was what kept her from going completely off the deep end and from ruining her almost perfect record in the prison. This is why she needed a reminder to stay on the track, to stay on the plan. She needed to discard her emotions, at least for now, and to get to work.

A loud sigh and the flick of her thumb led to the second photograph: two young women standing at what looked like a rooftop, with the sun setting behind them. Debbie looked at her frame, twenty something, lanky and underfed, a flannel sweater and jeans with barely any of the lean muscle she boasted post her stint at the prison gym. The taller, lankier blonde next to her was leaning against the railing, her frame accentuated by the leather jacket (faux, if Debbie remembered correctly), the rest of her clothes in black as well, a darkly contrasting figure with her pale skin and high cheekbones cutting through the New York skyline behind them. Debbie didn't remember who took the photo, but she remembered Lou insisting that she keep the only print they got of it. “A memorabilia, to remind you of the time I got us an apartment with a fucking gorgeous view, at an all time low bargain price.” She remembered the slightly tinged Australian drawl, the thrill from the day the photograph was taken, moving into their first place together, only for Debbie to move out a year later.  
The photograph was lost amongst her things when she was moving around with Claude when their ‘business’ was doing well, only to eventually end up in a box or a bag somewhere before she went to prison. She just remembered getting a message delivered by the prison post to her in the first week after she was incarcerated, post three layers of interrogation which found nothing suspicious in the contents of it; simply a terse sentence on the back of a New York postcard. I have taken care of it. Don’t forget to eat. - L.  
She hadn't heard anything from Lou since that postcard, which probably explained her jitters and procrastination in sending a text. She had spent years dreaming of this moment. What she would say when she would finally see her again, the tall silhouette made even taller by some pair of heeled boots which she knew Lou would wear; height made her look intimidating and she used it to her advantage. Debbie thought of all that she had day-dreamt about this day, just this one moment, before she would let it all go and focus on the job. An important heist, which if done the way she had planned it out, would ensure that she never needed to ever be in this position again. Perhaps, even, never needing to send any more text messages to Lou again. The possibility made her forlorn and longing for the past, simpler times, of beer and vodka shots in the privacy of their small loft, the first loft she ever bought in New York, the first they ever bought, as partners. A loaded word, an inside joke. The familiarity of takeout boxes as storage containers, making her suddenly crave pad Thai which she most certainly won't get in the confines of a leading five star hotel in downtown NY.  
Debbie rolled her shoulders, and shook some sense into her. This was no time to board the nostalgia train, so to speak. There were things that needed to be done. A heist was waiting. So Debbie took off her dress, ran a bath and procrastinated for a while longer. Stepping out of what was a long awaited bath, she changed into the hotel bathrobe, lay back down on her hotel bed, whipped out her phone again, quit the photos application, and sent a late night text. 

—

JLBRD  
Where’s the fcking cemetery? 12 pm. 

The noises from the club trailed out and into New York at night, with its twinkling lights and the sulfuric city air. Lou, perched on the emergency exit stair railings, stared into the screen of her phone, which she barely ever used beyond work calls and handling liquor shipment for the club. Yet something in the air, or her intuition, or just some innate habit had compelled her to check her phone when the text alert had sounded. And so she sat on the rails, a cigarette dangling from her left hand, her trusty lighter long forgotten, staring into a screen with a text from JLBRD. Well, I missed you too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this is a multi-chapter fic, or at least it will be if all goes as planned.  
> Your comments fuel the author! Please feel free to dish out constructive criticism (or just drop by to say hi!) I am taking a lot of liberties as a writer, and with the mostly blank slate that the film gave us when it came to these characters. Theres only so much you can do with the debate of who's the top here, ya know.   
> I hope you enjoyed reading this! There's more to come. More au-ish liberties to be taken here...


	2. It's Peaceful in the Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Lou Miller. Cool as the coldest beer in the fridge, hot as the dying embers of a cigarette within. A paradox; tragically so. 
> 
> (Or, a little info of Lou, most of it maybe dark!AU and some childhood trauma stuff. Approach w/caution.)

Chapter Two

The first time Lou Miller had experienced her heart break was when she was six years old, and her elder sister had walked out onto the beach near their small one-storied house near the bigger vacation homes in the sleepy beach-town she used to live in, only to never come back. Lou was too young to remember how her sister was, even how she looked like (she only had a few photos to remember her by) but she remembered the aftermath of her disappearance.   
A tragedy tends to break a family apart. Especially if you don’t have the resources to bring enough media attention to disappearances which take place near a beach in a vacation town during the winter/high tide season. She remembered the nonchalance and excuses, before they started to turn her mother away. There was only so much time the police could give to a teenager who had run away from home for a better life. Her mother had tried to invoke some local interest, and there was a day or two when locals gathered to go on a manhunt for the missing thirteen year old. Eventually they all went back to their houses or businesses to board up for an upcoming predicted stormy week, and Lou’s mother packed their bags and bought two train tickets to Melbourne. Lou remembered the missing child notices, piled up in their basement as her mother gathered the final papers of their house before handing it over to a distant relative. That was the first time absence, loss, and a deep feeling of emptiness hit her gut, even though nobody had the heart to tell little baby Lou that dislocation and running away was simply in the Miller blood, whether she wanted it or not.   
Her mother left their tinged past only to be sucked into the underbelly of the city. And Lou had nothing if not spirited Miller blood in her veins, even when she wasn't aware of it. Dropping out of school, working three shifts in the kitchen at a fast food restaurant and keeping it all a secret from her mother led her to a one way airplane ticket to New York, never to look back. She wanted to do better, be something other than what she had experienced on the Melbourne streets. But street was what she knew best, so she stuck with hustling. Despite being in cities for most of her teenaged and adult life, there was something about a coastline, of revving a motorbike along the sea, that recurred in Lou’s dreams. She did not have a lot of people to talk to in her first few weeks in the city, so when she met Debbie Ocean for the first time when Debbie tried to pickpocket Lou in a crowded subway station, it was almost a relief. Lou was new to the city, and laughably easy to con out of a few hundred dollars: the last of her savings. Debbie was kind, with her icy cold hands warming up to her palms as she held onto them, navigating through the crowded trains and eventually exiting the stop and walking them towards an equally crowded two bedroom flat. Debbie was a fast talker, hurriedly explaining her family’s various accomplishments and her own achievement at managing to move to the city all on her own and finding this apartment. She had roommates, as everyone in New York is compelled to, but she didn't intend to stay there for long. Debbie had a plan, and she wanted Lou to be in it. “A partnership to end all partnerships, eh?” She had chuckled, while dangling her legs off of the kitchen counter, a half consumed cold beer bottle between them. Lou didn’t have the heart to tell Debbie then that she didn't drink beer; vodka had always been the drink of her choice, partially thanks to her mother. But that evening felt like a promise, and the the smell of beer and lavender perfume (“I nicked it from a dollar store ‘cause I was bored and horny, but it smells great doesn't it?”) from the body of calm and collected with a hint of being tense, was heady and strong. Irresistible.

The second time Lou had her heart broken was when she mustered enough courage to ask her coworker at the fast food place she worked, Belinda Massey, out for drinks and what she thought was a possible date. Belinda had said yes, only to cancel a few minutes later when she remembered her boyfriend was going to get home early that day, and what do you mean by a date Lou? Aren’t we just hanging out? Lou was sixteen and hurt and angry at Belinda and possibly herself, so she did what angry sixteen year olds do: bought a ten pack of mild cigarettes, only to spend the rest of her life trying (and eventually succeeding) to kick off the habit. Cut to many, many years later, as she sat on that railing with the faint sounds of electrons music playing in the background, she fumbled for her lighter in her jacket pocket, finding it nestled between the lining and the actual pocket. She needed to take the darned thing to the shop and get it mended. If she’s going to have the time for it. The text message was swirling in her head as she lifted her cigarette, protected from the chilly night wind by her cupped hands, and lit it with a blaze of light that illuminated the laugh lines around her eyes. Lou wasn't sixteen anymore. Or twenty five, for that matter. She was old, old and soon all this was not going to matter anymore. A drag, pause, inhaling more, only to exhale a plume of blue-white smoke into the night. The nicotine jolted her body awake; it had been a while since she had smoked. It felt like a relief and a burden at the same time. Maybe this is what getting old felt like, and to not acknowledge it felt like living a lie. She took another drag, before crushing the half smoked cigarette against the wall and throwing it in the dustbin next to the railing.   
The club only had a last few dregs of dancing inebriated customers moving about. It was almost closing time, and Lou was almost tempted to track down Debbie; she was almost certain she knew where Debbie was staying, if she was even in the city, which she had to be because why else would she have texted her? Lou sighed and made her way back to the vault, tossing the club keys to one of her subordinates and asking them to close up. She grabbed her bike keys and zipped up her jacket, grabbing a scarf and her helmet from the cupboard in her office. She left a note for Shireen, the day manager, before she locked the door: Won’t be coming in for a while, have some pending work. Take care of everything for me, and as usual I owe you a ton. - L. On her way out she caught a partially inebriated woman staring at her with a knowing look, one which Lou was all too familiar with. On a usual closing night she would've asked the young brunette if she fancied a bike ride, take them to the late night kebab stand near the loft, assess their drunkeness before suggesting a coffee or a nightcap at her place (“just around the corner, actually”) as the case may be. Tonight, though, all Lou felt in her body was a tiredness. She smiled partially at the girl, receiving a puzzled look as an answer, and sauntered to her bike. Revving the engine and smelling the rubber against asphalt, she sped into the night, her heart still racing with unfulfilled promises. She would dream of California, tonight. 

—

The third (and the most recently) time Lou had gotten her heart broken was when she sat on the sofa in the middle of their flat, nursing a headache and a cup of coffee as Debbie walked around collecting her stuff in a small brown carton.   
“You don’t have to take it all at once, you know. Now that you have a boyfriend with a car you can take it all in multiple trips.” Lou had drawled from the sofa, her voice harsher and more languid than she had wanted it to sound. She heard Debbie sigh from their room, for they could only afford a one bedroom flat together, so it had always been them sharing a bedroom, a bathroom, kitchen, living room, sheets, and sometimes perfume. Their room.   
“You know I can't do that. Claude doesn't even know I’m here, and I don’t want him to know either.’ Debbie stepped out of the room, holding an armful of photo frames and what looked like a few scattered toiletries from the bedside table and the bathroom.   
“What, you’re afraid he’ll get jealous?” A pause, thick tension in the air, before Lou dissipates it. Like she would always do. “Tell him he has literally nothing to worry about. Even the thought of anything here is just laughable—”   
“I know he has nothing to worry about.” Debbie’s voice had a slight edge to it, though she had mastered hiding any twinge of emotion from her voice, especially in tense situations. She was very good at it. It’s just that Lou knew her too goddamn well. “I just didn't want to complicate things in his mind. You know, in case you ever want to—”  
“Nu uh. Not with him. You know what I think. Nothing and nobody can change my mind about this Deb, not even you.” Lou, on the other hand, had never been good with hiding emotions or inflections in her voice. She was aloof in general, but when she was filled with emotions and unspoken words and just so many feelings and, god, Debbie, don’t do this. Don’t go. Please.   
“I know. I’m sorry, for bringing it up again.” Debbie grabbed the box and her purse, struggling to balance the two, making Lou get up from the sofa in a rush, her hangover making her nauseated and dizzy, before making her way to where Debbie was still trying to get the strap of the purse on her shoulder. Lou caught hold of the strap and dragged it to Debbie’s shoulder, fingers brushing her bare arm before she stepped away. Debbie moved her lips as though to say something, before turning and leaving the flat. Lou stood at the door, watching her make her way down the hall to the staircase before she disappeared, and Lou pushed the door shut, only to slide down and sit on the floor, her cup of coffee long forgotten. She cradled her head in her hands, before getting up and reaching for a drawer in the kitchen that contained what she called her emergency stash, one which she had convinced Debbie to not throw away, and promised not to touch. Just the knowledge that it was there was enough for Lou, then. Now, she stood in the narrow balcony, lighting the months old blunt and inhaling deeply, letting the nicotine flood through her as her eyes followed Debbie carrying the boxes to a waiting toyota SUV, loading the car with her luggage, before climbing into the car and speeding away. Lou followed the car as far as her eye and her balcony could allow, before it was swallowed by the intermittent city traffic.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments fuel the author! I hope this wasn't too OOC.


	3. Dream On, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little Tammy comes along the way...  
> Developments from the film right before Lou finds out about Claude the asshat.  
> Hope you like this chapter!

Chapter Three: Dream On, Baby

Tammy had never thought that she would be living a double life.  
Sure, she had had her days when she wanted to give up the hustle and just get a college degree. But the thrill of the chase, the high of the job, had always prevented her from committing to her applications, of scouting colleges with degrees that she may have excelled in (business studies, marketing, culinary arts) until one day it was became too late and too risky to do anything but the job. And then it got tiring.  
Sure, she was crazy good at it, but the stakes were too high for the low payoff that the risks had. Once, it had all seemed worth it, and the world had seemed invincible for her; but Debbie left, like she always did, and Tammy was too blinded by love and lust and infatuated beyond belief that she chose what would satisfy her spiteful heart.  
Dennis is a nice man; a political analyst who retired early to assist his brother in managing their family estate in the countryside. Dennis’ property was big enough for him and his brother to tear down the old farmhouse that used to be there and construct two different houses for their families. And because he loved to bide his time, Dennis decided to teach political science in the local community college. Tammy loved him, and she loved their children, but there was something that always seemed to be amiss; a buzzing, in the back of her head, as she would stir the steel pot with half-cooked chili, and ponder.  
First, she decided it was her unrealized ambition of getting a college degree. After several dinners over which Dennis and his buddies tried to convince her that she wasn't too old yet to become a student, she enrolled for some evening classes by which time Dennis would be home and be able to take care of the kids. Then, once she cleared the examinations and completed her course with the required credits, she applied for another. Then, a correspondence course from Washington. And another speciality healthy-cooking class. Every single moment of her time was filled with some activity or another, yet Tammy could not bring herself to throw away the extra burner phone she had acquired before abandoning her last heist post-Debbie. One day, she decided to get a little taste of her old life.  
It was never the same again. Dennis, kind as he was, would often question the amount of time those “darned E-Bay people seem to be taking. I’d rather use the garage for something else!” She never got the courage to enlist a warehouse. Even if she were to get the money somehow and manage to pay warehouse rent, who would help her with the household and the kids? So Tammy told herself that being a mother is a full time job, and she better be satisfied with it, for their sake.  
Until Debbie reentered her life.  
Oh, the thrill of it. She felt like an infatuated teenager again.  
—  
“Y’all want some fries with that?” Nine-Ball asked, typing a fast food order on her laptop for delivery. Rose yawned and murmured something along the lines of “Americans and fries”, Constance nodded enthusiastically and listed off three more sides she wanted along with her jumbo burger, and Amita shook her head. Tammy stood at the other end of the loft, poring into an instruction manual and trying to adjust her reading glasses. Why do they need print that’s even smaller than fine print?  
“Aight. Order’s almost done. Hey, Tammy?” Nine Ball called out to her.  
“Hmm?”  
“You want fries with that?”  
“No, thank you.” Tammy smiled as Nine Balled bopped her head, fingers furiously typing on the laptop before declaring that their meal would be paid for by a prominent businessman of the city. 

“Isn’t that really risky?” Tammy asked, the manual abandoned at the side of the coffee table, as she made her way to the couch where Nine Ball was lounging.  
“Nah.” Nine Ball shrugged. “He probably thinks his kids are fuckin with him, sending prank meals and shit. It’s just fifty dollars, chump change for these guys.” She shifted on the couch, leaving just enough space for Tammy to squeeze in between a half asleep Rose, with a mile of tulle abandoned at her feet, and Nine Ball.  
“Ohh, I guess that makes sense. Think the Met will miss a necklace while we’re at it?” Tammy winked at Nine Ball, eliciting a throaty laugh even though she never looked up from her laptop screen.  
“Oh shit!” Nine Ball exclaimed abruptly, causing Rose to snap from her snoring and Tammy to jump. “I forgot to ask the boss lady what she wants.” She groaned.  
“But, I thought Debbie was out?” Constance piped in, dispersing the pamphlets scattered around her feet as she came round to the sofa where Nine Ball was busy trying to hack into the restaurant’s ordering system and ascertaining whether their order was on its way or not.  
Tammy shrunk from Nine Ball’s warm body, squeezing her way out of the now overcrowded couch and heading upstairs. “It is almost 4 pm. I should go wake up Lou.”  
“You want any help with that?” Constance jumped on her feet, beanie and phone poised and ready in her hands.  
“No, and no, you can’t accompany me anyway and record a prank.” Tammy used her best ‘inside house mommy’ voice, deflecting Constance’s disappointed look with a ‘sit down’ gesture with her hands. 

She made her way up the flight of stairs and into the last bedroom on the right, the one with the biggest window that looked right out to sea. Lou Miller is a romantic cliche, she thought to herself and chuckled.  
“Lou. Hey, it’s time to wake up now.” She made her way to the bed, removing two layers of duvets to find an impossibly curled Lou underneath them, mouth slightly open.  
“Hey, sleepyhead.” Tammy prodded her back, causing Lou to groan loudly and thrash around, possibly for her phone. Lou eventually got up groggily, rubbing her eyes and scratching her nose alternatively.  
“What time is it? Noon?” She asked, her voice grate-y and possibly smoke-filled.  
“Jesus, Lou. What’s wrong?” Tammy grabbed a bottle of water from the bedside, which Lou proceeded to drink two mouthfuls from, before taking some in her palm and rubbing it on her neck.  
“My stomach is grumbling. Should we get some food?” Lou drawled “it’s almost lunch time anyway.”  
“Lou, it’s four in the afternoon.” Tammy sighed, getting up from the bed and walking towards the massive bedroom window. She heard Lou utter a low “fuck” before scrambling for the closet, her robe and underwear already thrown on the bed.

“Tammy, you should've woken me up ages ago. And where’s Debbie? Fuck, she could've just come in and screamed at me, I would have been up in a jiffy.” Lou grumbled, throwing clothes around in the room.  
“Ahh, I don’t know Lou. Everyone’s sort of busy in their own shit, and we didn't realize how late it got. Nine Ball is just ordering food for us. Plus, Debbie’s not back yet.”She could hear Lou’s brain working at breakneck speed, even though Lou didn't say anything and continued to rummage in her closet. “Not back yet? That’s odd. Didn’t she leave right in the morning?”  
“Around seven, but how do you know that?” Tammy swiveled to look at Lou holding clothes and a towel in her hand, kicking off her pants simultaneously.  
“I couldn't sleep. Anyway, I will take exactly ten minutes and then will come downstairs. Tell Nine Ball I will order myself some vegetables in black bean sauce.” A beat. “And tell her not to steal from some innocent fucker— its on me.”  
Tammy smiled softly. Oh Lou. “I shall convey the message, but, is everything okay?” “Tammy! Jesus…” Lou rubbed her temples with her thumb and forefinger. “If I knew you were going to be like this, I wouldn't have asked Debbie to bring you in.”“Hey, c’mon. That’s not fair. Look, I know we haven't been the closest of friends,” She saw Lou cringe at the wording; despite her inhibitions, however, Tammy continued. “I know Debbie. At least, I know the Debbie that would scout New York streets with me. And I know you, from what Debbie had told me after she first met you.” A forlorn look shadowed Lou’s eyes before she turned towards the bathroom door.“All I am is worried about you two!” Tammy, exasperated and concerned about the defeated look on Lou’s face. A pause. “Tell Nine Ball my credit card is in the living room drawer. Oh, and don’t order anything for me.” A steely look. “I am going out.”The bathroom door banged, as Tammy collapsed on Lou’s unmade yet surprisingly soft bedsheet. 

“Where’d you disappear, Tam?” Nine Ball piped from the couch, her head tilted towards the screen looking at something. Tammy sighed, removing some of the extra tulle Rose had left near the couch before she had disappeared into one of the guest rooms to take a nap. Amita had left to go to the hardware shop to check out some supplies, and Constance was lying on the other sofa, typing away on her phone, headphones firmly in her ears. Tammy sat down beside Nine Ball, resting her legs on the sofa and scratching her head. “I went to wake up Lou, but I guess I wasn't too successful.”“She is still in bed?”“She is angry. With me, or Debbie. I dont know. Why am I getting involved in this?”Nine Ball chuckled. “Coz you’re soft for them. Plus, nobody wants the boss ladies to be grumpy; it makes it harder for the rest of us to do our job properly.” She shrugged. “You’re just the devil’s advocate here, they already know what they need to do.”“Yeah, but they aren't doing the one thing they need to: talk to each other!” Tammy sighed, before she felt a hand rest on her thigh and squeeze gently. Nine Ball smiled, softly caressing the flesh poking from underneath Tammy’s khaki shorts.  
“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Tammy, they’re grown women. They’ll figure it out.”  
“I suppose so… but I don’t quite know how one can figure stuff in the kind of life Lou and Debbie have had with each other.” Tammy sighed, probably for the thirtieth time today. I guess its going to be one of those days again. “Tell me… have you ever been in the kind of love that consumed you? So much so that even if you were not with the person, even if they left you, or vice versa, the relationship might change or die but the love remained? And you feel like it will always be there?”  
Nine Ball paused, musing and looking deeply at nothing in particular. “I don’t suppose I have. Familial love, maybe, where even if you have to its hard to quit or leave them behind, but sometimes you’ve just gotta… but never romantic love like that, no.”  
“Well, I used to think for the longest time that the first time I was with a person, hell, the first time I became romantically inclined towards a person, it was the end all. I was madly in love with her.” Tammy paused, noticing Nine Ball’s eyebrow quirk a little, but the reggae clad woman was looking at Tammy with a concentrated expression on her face.  
“At least, I told myself it was love. It felt like everything I had read in books, all the silly soap operas I would watch the adverts of. I had not seen love like that ever in my life— well, not with my mother and her various boyfriends anyway.” Tammy chuckled. “Gosh, I was young— maybe sixteen?— when I met her, and I remember thinking sometime after a week of meeting her or so that I would give up my life for her.”  
Nine Ball elicited a slow whistle.  
“I was wrong, of course. I was madly infatuated, and also running some jobs with her, it was the combined high of money and a beautiful, sexy partner. Everything about my present then was absolutely glamorous and fantastic. Until it all ended. I was horrified, terrified, truly heart broken, and I felt my life had ended. I got a job as a waitress in this country club in the Hamptons because I could not bear the thought of going back on the job, without the painful reminders of what I considered to be the remaining shards of my first love.” Tammy grinned. “And that’s when I met Dennis.”  
“This is a sweet story Tam, but what’s that got to do with our boss ladies?”  
“Well, I thought what I had with—” Tammy paused. “With my ex, was something I would never find. That’s why I said yes to Dennis when he first asked me out; he was everything she wasn’t, and I thought I would forget all the pain that came attached with my past, and all the abandonment issues I harbored to boot. I found a loving, supportive, and wonderful husband instead. I never thought I would be like this, and after all the years of experience behind me I can safely say my infatuation was for the best, even if part of me still belongs to her, maybe it always will, but most of it is safely in the hands of Dennis. And we are secure enough in our lives not to be threatened by each others’ dalliances.” Tammy smiled, before muffling her brow.  
“I sense a but coming…” Nine Ball prodded, her laptop still open on her lap but the work she had been doing long forgotten.  
“Well, I know what was with me, or how I realized my love wasn't really the love I had read about. Sure, I love Dennis too, but I wouldn't think of half the things that lovers do in the songs and books they write. I more or less declared that love to be non existent, until…” She paused.  
“I get it.” Nine Ball interjected. “I’ve seen it, between them. It’s something warm and comforting yet burning and volatile at the same time; tame and out of control.”  
“Precisely. If they continue like this, one of them is going to end up badly injured.”

They heard the front door open, and Debbie sauntered in, her long black overcoat flying behind her, her boots treading on the wooden floors.  
“What’re you two going on about?” Debbie asked. Nine Ball shrugged and grinned, and Tammy only shook her head weakly. “nothing.”  
Debbie took off her scarf, shaking loose her long brown hair from a loose ponytail and running her fingers though them. “Well, where is everyone? Where’s Lou?”  
“She stepped out.” Nine Ball quipped, while deftly typing something on her laptop. “Oh, and we just ordered some food for us, Ms. Debbie. Want me to place somethin’ for you?”  
“No, thanks. I just had lunch.” Debbie plopped her purse on the sofa, before taking out her phone and typing a text to someone. “Hey, Tammy? Can I talk to you about something?”  
“Sure, Deb, what’s up?”  
“Not here.” Debbie jerked her head towards the kitchen. “Let’s have some tea?”  
—  
“You know that’s a terrible idea.” Tammy sighed, looking at her tea; rather, the pits of her cup where there were a few drops of chamomile. It wasn’t doing anything to help her nerves though.  
“It’s not. And before you say it, I am not making this into something personal.” Debbie sipped hers slowly. Tammy rolled her eyes.  
“Look, I obviously don't have a major problem with this, and I know that you have thought this through; else you wouldn't have suggested it. But, I am not the one who needs to be convinced here.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Really, Deb?” Tammy almost banged her tightly coiled fist on the table, before taking a deep breath. These two were testing her carefully constructed mommy-patience to the core. “Has prison made you daft, or are you just cruel?”  
A pause. And Tammy realized the weight of the words she had just said. “I’m sorry, I spoke out of turn…”  
Debbie put her hand up. Her eyes were cold, and distant, the kind that used to scare Tammy sometimes, when they had been teenagers.  
“You don’t need to say anything else.” She cupped her hands around the cup, sipping loudly. “I will talk to Lou, you just get Claude in the list.”  
“Deb…”  
Another look, this one more arresting than before.  
“Do what I say.” Debbie got up, her chair scraping the hardwood floor with a rude noise, echoing through the house in a manner that made Nine Ball stop typing.  
“And remember, you’re working for me.” Debbie locked eyes with Tammy. “Okay?” 

—

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment! It really helps especially when writing fan fiction; it is all about the fans after all. It has been a while since I have attempted to write anything long form OR fan fiction for that matter, but the Lou/deb sizzling chemistry had my gay heart going. I hope you guys enjoy what I have planned... (muahahaha)


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